


towed

by MsCFH



Series: Winter Writing Prompts [1]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:08:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22776169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsCFH/pseuds/MsCFH
Summary: Prompt fill for the winter writing prompts on Tumblr."Your car slid into a snowbank and I’m the mechanic that comes to tow you."
Relationships: Sansa Stark/Margaery Tyrell
Series: Winter Writing Prompts [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1637428
Comments: 8
Kudos: 137





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies for any spelling or grammar mistakes, this is unbeta'd.

It was a simple lesson that you read just about everywhere, and everyone and their fathers will happily tell you. If you ever feel your car starting to skid while driving, do not, under no circumstances hit the brakes; instead, get your foot off the gas and slowly try to stir it back into the lane.

Not exactly complicated.

Except it absolutely was.

Margaery’s instincts to bring the car to a stop worked a lot faster than any common sense or competent advice. When she felt her car starting to lose grip, at the sixty kilometres per hour she was going, she hit the brakes. Hard.

The next thing she knew, she had slid off the road, the car coming to a forced stop with a solid thud and the inside of the vehicle going completely black.

For the first moment, her hands were trembling and tightly wound around the steering wheel all at once, and she needed a moment to collect herself. It took her an instant to figure out that her lack of vision did not have anything to do with shards of glass from the windscreen damaging her eyes. It was only completely covered in snow.

To her further discontent realising that did not help things along a great deal, nor did turning on the wipers. The lights of the car were buried firmly into the easily two-metre-high snowbank at the side of the road. Only the moonlight shining through the windscreen offered a bit more vision than before.

A look out of the side and back showed her that she was not too far off the road. Another deep breath later, she put the car in reverse, and gently pressed on the gas pedal. She heard the car’s engine roaring up, felt the vibrations of the wheelspin go through every part of the car, but nothing happened; she did not move an inch.

In a mixture out of stubborn helplessness and madness, she tried the exact same thing five more times, not entirely surprisingly with the exact same result.

When, at last, she got out of the car, to try and figure out if there was something she could do, the full extent of how screwed she was here became clear to her. The hood of the car was firmly stuck in the snowbank and the tires more than halfway buried in deep snow.

Shivering, she slipped back onto the driver seat, turned on the reading light and fished her phone out of her purse. As every independent and self-providing adult in her situation, she did the only reasonable thing; she called her dad.

Her father spent the first ten minutes listing all she had done wrong here to land in this situation. And then another fifteen describing things she could try to get the car back on the road -none for which she had the necessary equipment. Eventually, he surrendered and told her he would call his automobile club and have a towing vehicle send to her.

Margaery couldn’t help a queasy feeling once she’d hung up the phone, wishing she’d stayed on with him a little longer. The realisation that she was right in the middle of nowhere, all by herself was hitting her full force. Each and every urban legend that started exactly like that came to her mind precisely in those moments, and she quickly pressed the button for central locking and fished in her purse for her pepper spray.

Like that, with the heating cranked up all the way and the radio turned on she found it bearable.

The ninety minutes it took for the light’s of the truck to appear in her rear-view mirror were among the longest in her life. Only with them, a new sense of uneasiness settled in her chest. She had absolutely no idea who was coming for her help, but they doubtlessly knew that she was stuck here all by herself.

Her hands tightened firmly around the can in her hand and even as she saw the tall, lean figure in the lights approaching she still shrieked when there was a knock to her window.

How fast this kind of anxiety could be replaced by absolute bewilderment she had not known previous to the pale, friendly looking face, and most definitely feminine features of a woman appearing at her car window.

She rolled down the window, and still a good deal confused. “You’re the mechanic?”

As the words left her mouth, she felt incredibly stupid. She decided to put the biased way of expecting a man to the adrenaline that still coursed through every single cell in her body.

The woman did not take offence but merely shot her a smirk. “If that’ll work for you.”

Margaery allowed herself another moment to collect her nerves before unlocking the car and stepping out into the freezing night air. She stood by and took in the woman taking in the damage with the help of a flashlight.

“My first guess would be a broken front axle,” the woman observed after a short while. “But we have no way of knowing until we get you back onto the street.

Margaery stood by as she gathered the towline connected to the truck and attached it beneath the rear bumper of her rental. The truck already being parked in an appropriate distance and angle, left the mechanic to only activate the towing mechanism by hitting a button on the side of the truck. The towline tightened, and after a second or so the car hitched out of the holes it had buried itself into. An ugly scratching noise followed once it moved back onto the concrete of the street.

Margaery stepped around the car together with the mechanic, and she grimaced once she saw the hood properly dented in. It looked like she had driven into a brick wall, not a simple snowbank. There went her deposit.

"I’m afraid you are done with driving for tonight,” came the remark of the mechanic. “We’ll have to take you back to the workshop.”

“Shit,” Margaery mumbled. So much for her hope to arrive by tomorrow morning.

The mechanic took Margaery in for a flash; shivering, with her arms wrapped around herself.

“Why don’t you go ahead and sit in the truck? I’ll have this up on the platform in a couple of minutes, and then we can get out of here.”

The question of whether she needed any help was on the tip of Margaery’s tongue, but she caught herself before she could make a fool out of herself. She did not know the first thing about cars, or any of this, and would be properly useless.

As instructed, she climbed into the driver’s cabin, pulling her scarf lose at the comfortably heated air that surrounded her. A quick try at a google search showed her that the internet connection was more or less non-existent, and for a moment, she considered how lucky she had been to make a phone call. A night spent out here in this cold, middle of nowhere was anything but desirable.

Dropping her phone into her lap, she took a look over her shoulder. She saw through the window that the car was already loaded up onto the truck and the mechanic was just putting what appeared to be finishing touches on securing it properly.

The woman climbed into her seat a moment later. She ridded herself off her jacket, and gloves, shooting Margaery an encouraging smile as she moved along. “We’ll probably be able to fix it within a couple of days. Nothing too complicated.”

A couple of days were an eternity when you hardly had more than that off from work. “Any chance I can get a rental car from somewhere tonight?”

“Tonight?”

Margaery nodded and noticed perfectly manicured nails coloured with bright red nail polish -what kind of mechanic had hands like that?- turn the key in the ignition.

“Low chances to be honest,” she answered after a moment of contemplation. “We have a couple of rental companies, but none of them will open before tomorrow morning.”

Margaery made a small sound of frustration.

“Where were you headed at this time anyway?”

“Queenscrown,” Margaery answered with a sigh. “My connecting flight was cancelled because of the weather.”

“And you thought driving in this weather was the better option?” The daunting in her tone was evident, and Margaery glanced in her direction just in time to see her smirking.

Margaery pursed her lips, because, yes, hearing her say it out loud it did sound like an entirely foolish plan.

“You are not from the North, are you?”

“What gave me away? My extraordinary driving on icy roads?”

The mechanic chuckled. “That, yes,” she gave her a quick glance up and down while steering the truck onto the road. “And your outfit choice.”

Margaery frowned and glanced down on her woollen coat, scarf and leather boots. “What’s wrong with my outfit?”

She received a smile and a shake of her head in return. “Forget I said something.”

“No,” Margaery insisted. “Please do tell.”

The woman threw her another quick glance that suggested she’d humour her. “It’s pretty.” The way she said it did not exactly sound like a compliment. “And Northerners do not really look for pretty in their outfit choice but for practical and preventing hypothermia.”

Instinctively Margaery’s fingers picked at her Burberry coat and her large scarf. She was not wrong. It did look more like it was made for a stroll through a ski town than anything else.

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” the mechanic added a moment later.

An instinctive “You didn’t.” did not make it past Margaery’s lips once she spotted the smile the other woman bit away. She had meant to offend her, even if it was just a little.

“It is my first time in the North,” she answered instead. “I’m from the Reach.”

“Long way from home,” the woman noted and flung an intrigued glance Margaery’s way. “What brings you to Queenscrown then? Boyfriend there?”

“No,” Margaery returned. “My brother is stationed there for the past six months. He’s been having sort of a rough time.”

“Military?”

“Yes,” she sighed in return.

She’d been worried about him; it was the longest time in all their life that they had not seen each other and he’d sounded depressed when they talked. She suspected it had some connection to the drama surrounding his forced transfer to the North, after all the uproar about the affair with his superior.

“I have a cousin who is stationed in Queenscrown,” the mechanic gave back after a moment of silence. “It can be rough. Plus it’s not exactly the North’s advertising location for a vacation.”

“No, it doesn’t seem to be.”

“The good news for you though is that we have a daily train from Wintertown that brings you there in under seven hours.”

While seven hours was still a hell of a long time to get from one town to the next, Margaery accepted it as a silver lining. If only because it would save her from any more driving in this icy hell.

Even now, when she was not driving herself, those narrow, dark roads still made her anxious, and she wondered one more time how she had ever considered this a good idea.

Out of the corner of her eyes, she stole the one or other glance at the woman next to her. She was leading the truck so effortlessly and safely along the roads; not even lose her stability when fishing for a water bottle behind her seat that she held out to Margaery a moment later.

Most definitely not what she’d thought a mechanics hands to feel like, Margaery thought once again, when perfectly manicured and soft fingers brushed against her own. “Thanks.”

“It’ll only be another then minutes or so,” the woman informed her when the first lights of the town came into view in the distance. “I have a friend who owns a B&B who might be able to set you up for the night. Chances to get a hotel room at this time are pretty low.”

“Does this town have a curfew I am not aware of?” Margaery mumbled with a shake of her head, smiling when it brought a melodic laugh from the other woman.

“In winter it can feel a bit of a ghost town at night,” she acknowledged.

Margaery found that statement proven when they drove through an almost empty main street. They passed a total of one other car on the roads, and all restaurants and even bars were pitch dark.

The mechanic pulled the truck into a driveway leading up to a big parking lot and an, in comparison, small garage at the other end of it.

“Let’s get inside,” she suggested. “I’ll call my friend, and we’ll finish the paperwork.”

Margaery let herself be led through a roll-up gate, into a dark garage and workshop. They came to a stop in front of a door on the other end of it, that she unlocked. Subsequently, she switched on the light and led her into a comfortably heated office room with an adjoining kitchen.

“Have a seat,” the mechanic told her gesturing to one of the desks while shrugging off her own jacket and pulling off her beanie.

For just a short moment, Margaery had trouble following the offer, finding herself entirely caught off guard by seeing the other woman in proper light for the first time. Out on the street and inside the truck she’d figured her to be easy on the eyes. Still, that vague assumption had by no means prepared her for the contrast of bright red hair, braided into a delicate updo, and sparkling blue eyes; not to mention her smile.

“How about a coffee?”

Clearing her throat, Margaery pulled at her scarf and fidgeted with the first buttons of her coat; then she managed a smile of her own. “That sounds divine.”

The redhead stepped behind the desk Margaery had taken a seat at and pulled two forms out of a filing system, placing them in front of her along with a pen. “Why don’t you get started on these and I’ll get us some of that divine caffeine .”

Margaery nodded, shrugged her coat off and just as she’d leaned over the form, scanning the required fields. Only a second later her mind forgot all personal details she’d ever known. On her way to the small adjoining kitchen, the redhead had unzipped the top of her white overall, slipped out of the sleeves and tied them around her waist.

The form-fitting black sweater, with a plunging neckline and the dangling silver necklace, was not what Margaery had expected.

“Medium roast, okay?” she asked over her shoulder while fishing for the coffee capsules on one of the shelves.

Margaery nodded, but did not have her face under control fast enough for the other woman to see it. She smiled at Margaery still, turned back and filled the water drunk of the coffee machine. Margaery focused again on the form in front of her, starting to fill in the first field, when a plate of chocolate chip cookies was placed in front of her.

“Help yourself,” she said, taking one off the plate herself. “This is my best batch so far.”

Margaery watched her as she spun around back to the kitchenette, taking two cups and saucers out of the cupboard. Absentmindedly she picked one of the cookies off the plate, taking a bite as she brought her attention back on the page before here.

“Oh wow,” she muttered after only a short moment.

The redhead shot her a smile, while slipping a capsule into the coffee maker. “Good wow?”

Still chewing Margaery covered her lips with her fingers and nodded. “Absolutely.” That had to be one of the best cookies she’d ever tried. She dropped the pen altogether and focused her full attention on eating the delicious treat.

“So you know your way around cars, and you bake?”

Redhead smiled as she took the first filled cup out from under the machine and placed it in front of Margaery. “Not talents you’d consider to go together?”

“No, I just think it an unfair division of talents.” Margaery chuckled wiping her hands on a provided napkin. “I am useless in both the kitchen and in anything technical.”

The other woman graciously sunk into her office chair, a cup of coffee in front of her; a cookie between her lips while turning on the computer and typing in her password.

“So, you own this place?”

Smiling eyes glanced away from the computer screen and at Margaery. “You sound surprised?”

Shaking her head already, Margaery still tried to piece her answer together so she would not be offended. “It’s just… you don’t seem like the type?”

Yeah, that not trying to sound offensive thing had gone down great for sure.

Luckily her opposite looked still more amused than offended, her smirk had turned a little broader, and she raised her eyebrows. “And what type did you expect to own a workshop?”

Not wanting to dig her own hole any deeper Margaery shook her head and shrugged. “Forget I said something, it was stupid.”

“No, no, I’d like to hear more about how feminity and knowing how to do an oil change do not go together.”

She was teasing her, her tone playful, so much that it actually finally drew a smile to Margaery’s face.

She leaned forward then, her chin resting on crossed hands. “It’s a family business. My sister owns it and runs the more practical side of it. I just help out with the administrative tasks and with some of the basic things I picked up along the way.”

Content that not all her instincts had failed her Margaery focused her attention one more time back at the form. "This is isn’t your full-time job then.“

"Does that disappoint you?”

Making a feigned thoughtful face Margaery tiled her head but gave her most dazzling smile. “Maybe a little?”

“I’m finishing my history MA this year.”

“Impressive,” she noted.

“Not as impressive as,” she leaned over the table to get a better glance at what Margaery had managed to fill in on the form. “Surgical resident at KLU Hospital.” Her eyes darted to the sheet one more time. “ _Margaery_.”

She said her name through a glance up at her and made it sound like it was her new favourite word.

“I couldn’t do that,” she added then, leaning back again, taking a sip from her coffee. “People’s lives being your responsibility… that is a lot of pressure. Do you have a speciality in mind yet?”

“Neurological?”

Red-head chuckled. “That sounds like you are asking me.”

Margaery rolled her eyes, “I might have been … struggling with that question for a while now.”

Having the legacy of Olenna Tyrell to live up to a challenge she had always been happy to take on and succeed at. But the further she got in her residency, the less her grandmother’s field of expertise seemed what she wanted to do for the rest of her life.

A soft, so-very-not-a-mechanics’ hand reached out and covered her own for a short moment. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Margaery bit her lip, her eyes drawn to the pale, warm hand on her own. She wasn’t upset. But she also found that she didn’t want the touch to go away.

“I’m fine,” she settled on with a small smile. “Thanks.”

To her joy the warm palm lingered for another moment, and the smile that was sent her way along with the touch was equally full of warmth.

The moment was interrupted by the buzzing sound of a phone ringing, and yet it still needed a couple of seconds to entirely leave them. Hands retracted, but blue eyes remained firmly on her for a long moment, even while she fished the phone out of her purse. The soft smile only wavering when her eyes darted to the name on the screen.

“Excuse me for a moment?” She pushed her chair back and got to her feet, taking the call into the workshop.

Margaery tried her best to gather her focus for long enough to finally fill out the insurance form but didn’t get much further as parts of the redhead’s voice reached her through the door cracked open.

She sounded apologetic, Margaery was sure she made out the word “Sorry” a couple of times and something along the lines of “I don’t think this will work out.”.

The woman’s smile had dimmed when she returned to the desk; a frown on her forehead, while she was clearly avoiding to look at Margaery just then, fiercely clicking at something on her screen.

“Is everything okay?”

Margaery could see on her expression how she went from wanting to tell her everything was fine, to actually settling on the truth once she looked at her.

With a heavy sigh, she fell back against her chair. “I’m just so bad at this.”

Margaery was unable to help the lopsided smile any more than her words. “I thought we settled on me envying you because you are not bad at anything?”

That managed to wipe the tension of the other woman’s face for a short moment, and she chuckled. “Sorry to disenchant you there.”

It burned on Margaery’s tongue to ask what exactly happened, but it did not feel like within her right towards someone she’d met only a good two hours ago.

Luckily she didn’t have to ponder over boundaries, because the redhead rested her chin on a hand, looking at her with a half-smile. “Full disclosure?” she asked with a sigh. “I was sort of on a date when your call came in.”

“Oh.”

Margaery hoped that it sounded apologetic like she intended and did not give away too much of truckload of disappointment she felt emptied over her head.

It figured that she was seeing someone; looking like she did, she was probably one of those girls who did not stay single for longer than a very short period of time in-between relationships.

The other woman made a dismissive hand gesture. “It serves me right for making plans when I’m on-call. I simply did not assume anyone would be foolish enough to drive tonight.”

She gave Margaery another one of those teasing smiles, that had excited Margaery before, only now it felt border lining on cruel.

“At last an explanation for your outfit,” Margaery pointed out, wanting to talk about anything but her date. “I figured that wasn’t your typical attire beneath your working clothes.”

The redhead looked down on herself. “Oh. No. Sorry to disappoint you.”

_Oh, you have no idea._

Finding it hard to look at her Margaery glanced own and tapped the pen against the still only halfway finished form. “I’m still sorry for ruining your night.”

A shrug went over slender shoulders. “There was not a whole lot to be ruined.” Margaery glanced up just in time to see one of those gorgeous smiles sent her way. “If anything I feel I should give you a discount, for giving me a reason to get out of there.”

Margaery’s finger tightened around the pen, drawing small lines along the edge of the sheet, glad to have something to focus on, despite the tall, gorgeous woman in front of her. “Bad match?”

“Actually no,” came the prompt reply. “She was lovely.”

_She_. Margaery had a hard time just about then to suppress a joyous smile that wanted to spread over her face.

“But?”

“But,” her eyes were fastened on Margaery in a way that had warmth rise to cheeks. “There was no chemistry.”

This woman had a way of emphasising single, harmless words in a way that did things to Margaery. She was not someone who blushed or got flustered, but that woman had her as close to it as she ever was.

“And in my experience, that is nothing that develops over time.”

“No,” Margaery agreed in a quiet tone. “That’s not something you can force.”

When her eyes darted from her face to her hands Margaery thought for a moment she’d reach out again; the question that came instead felt a little like a cold shower. “Would you like another coffee?”

“I shouldn’t,” she pressed out through a forced smile, hands cupping the empty coffee cup.

The soft smile remained in place, but she pushed back her chair. “Perhaps we should be going then. It’s late.”

Margaery could not say what she had expected, if she should have expected anything, but this felt cut all too short. Still, she followed suit to the other woman getting to her feet. Was it possible that she had read the situation so false? Hyped up on all that leftover adrenaline and caffeine, she couldn’t exclude it.

The other woman went on peeling herself out of the rest of her overall, and Margaery failed graciously at not appearing too obvious in not admiring the tight jeans that revealed themselves underneath.

“I just came out of a ten-day night shift,” she told her, in an attempt to fill the silence, shrugging her own coat back on. “This is basically lunchtime for me.”

“I imagine it’s hard to get into a normal rhythm after that.” Her curves accented so well by the clothing disappeared underneath a thick black down coat.

“Hence my nightly driving, trying to make the best of a sleepless night.” Margaery shrugged, fishing the unfinished forms off the desk. “What do I do with these?”

“You can drop them off tomorrow. No rush.” The door leading back to the workshop was held open to her. 

It was cold in the garage and Margaery wrapped her arms around herself while the other woman locked the door behind them. “Did you ever call your friend?” Margaery wondered out loud. “About that room?”

“I haven’t.”

All the sudden Margaery found eyes looking at her with new intensity.

“I still can if you want me to,” she added, taking a slow step towards her, playing with the keys she held between long fingers.

Margaery swallowed, a tentative smile forming on her lips. Every nerve ending in her body felt suddenly on alert; in the very best way. “That depends on the alternative.”

“You could come back to my place.”

Heat coiled inside Margaery.

Without a doubt she was crazy to consider it; off the top of her head, there were twenty very good reasons why this was a bad idea.

Only she’d also never been more certain she’d regret not doing something for all eternity.

The redhead stood tall in front of her, still in a reasonable distance, but that could not lessen any of the intensity this moment had. For the first time tonight, there was a hint of shyness in her features, an indicator that this was not something she did on a daily basis.

It was just that quality that had Margaery nod her head at last. “If you’ll have me.”

A soft smile turned into a mischievous smirk. “My pleasure.”

She let herself be led to exit towards the parking lot, where she came to a stop in the door that was held open for her. In the lights from the street, she saw blue eyes taking her in.

“One more thing,” Margaery said, looking up at her, pursing her lips for a moment.

She received an expectant look in return.

“What’s your name?”

The redhead chuckled melodically. “Sansa. Sansa Stark.”

Margaery pushed herself off the door frame then and went a couple of steps backwards into the parking lot. “Pleasure to meet you, Sansa.”


	2. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "We just had a one-night-stand but a massive storm hit so now we’re snowed in, hello awkward."

Fingers drove in and out of Margaery at a speed that had white lights appear behind closed eyelids. Her hands desperately twisted into the sheets beneath her and she arched up her hips to meet every thrust that angled with perfect precision against her clit. With each she felt herself lose a little more control over her mind, her body, her entire existence.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” Hot breath tickled her ear and made her squirm; teeth caught her earlobe and a flash later skimmed down her neck, lander on her pulse point. Her breathing was laboured as well, her voice heavy with arousal. “Don’t hold back, Margaery.”

Sansa Stark still said her name like it was her favourite new word; never before had Margaery been turned willingness by anything faster.

Margaery blinked her eyes open when the body to her right, shifted on top of her without warning. Alone this new position, the feel of skin on skin and hardened nipples that pressed against her own, was almost most too much for her; the darkened blue eyes looking her over, the gentle smile and at last a deep kiss, all while the thrust into her never stopped, merely slowed, was positively more than she thought she could handle.

Sansa kissed her like someone enjoying their favourite dessert, she savoured it, slowly slid her tongue against Margaery’s, outlined the shape of her lips, sucked and nibbled on them; only when she was certain that she’d gotten everything possible out of the kiss, put everything she had into it, she released them, and instead moved on to suck along the line of her jaw until again they hovered right over Margaery’s ear.

“Don’t hold back,” she repeated -demanded- her lips directly at Margaery’s ear, her tongue darting out. “I want you to cum for me.”

Margaery shivered at the words and the antics; it was almost more than her overstimulated body could still handle. 

She’d been in a state of physical and sensory overload for about three rounds of this already; everything Sansa did or said turned her on. She felt sore in the very best way, longed for release and still, she fought desperately to hold on, addicted to the short moment now, the one just before release hit her, almost more than to the climax itself.

The next time when she thrust into her, Sansa put her entire own weight into it and it had Margaery gasping for air; her head tilted back into the pillow and with a moan she arched her body into the one hovering above her, met the next thrusts into her body eagerly. With this speed and this new intensity, she lost her fight to make the moment last.

Perfectly timed, Sansa’s lips attached to the side of her neck and sucked, hard. It should be the last things she was consciously aware of before her fifth orgasm of the night rolled over her with an intensity that put all previous ones of the night, and perhaps of her life, to shame.

A guttural groan tore from her lips along with a whole bunch of incoherent words; a mess between calling her name, cursing, and begging her not to stop.

She didn’t stop. 

Sansa kept on fucking her throughout her orgasm and beyond; her fingers only pulling from Margaery’s pleasantly overstimulated core a small eternity later. She let her drenched hand cup her for a moment afterwards, trapped between both their bodies, while Margaery lay there only slowly coming down from her high, a perfectly satisfied, boneless mass.

Small kisses peppered along her neck and the tongue that darted out tasting her skin slowly managed to pull Margaery back to reality, even though, it took her a good while to open her eyes.

Only Sansa’s soft, “Are you okay?” triggered her at last to blink heavy eyes open and meet blue ones looking her over in gentle concern.

She prided herself in her eloquence any other day, but now all she managed was this soft content hum of agreement.

Regaining some control over her body sooner than over her mind, she released the sheet between her fingers and instead ran them down Sansa’s back, feeling her defined muscles beneath damp skin, brushed her hands along the side of breasts that were pressed against her own.

“Most definitely, okay.” Margaery confirmed then through a breathy chuckle.

“Good.”

She caught Sansa’s smile just in time before her eyes fell closed, despite her best efforts.

Sansa brushed hair that stuck to Margaery’s forehead back and then her lips reattached to her neck, perfectly tender this time, her nose nuzzling against her skin. It was an entirely sweet gesture, but one, for the first time tonight, without any underlying intentions, no teasing.

“Looks like I’ve worn you out properly this time,” Sansa said, not without pride, but still softly. “Let’s call it a night.”

Margaery did not have enough strength left to protest Sansa’s suggestion or fight the tiredness her last orgasm had pushed her into, despite the disappointment the words triggered in her.

She did not want this night to end.

This ordeal, being fucked into a perfect oblivion by Sansa Stark was not what she’d planned for her night. And yet, now, at four in the morning, naked and covered in her own arousal down to her knees, in the bed of a woman she’d met six hours prior, all her original plans were the furthest thing on her mind. It had not been what she’d planned, but it had been a most perfect night.

“Probably a good idea,” Margaery breathed back, burying her face in soft red hair.

Sansa did not bother to move off of her, only pulled the covers over both of them and snuggled comfortably against her.

“Good night,” the smile was evident in Sansa’s tone. “ _Margaery_.”

Margaery drifted off thinking that she had been right. She would have regretted not coming back to Sansa’s place for the rest of her life.

—

A pleasant smell of fresh brewed coffee lingering in the air woke Margaery. She stretched her spine under soft covers, found her body aching in the most delicious way. 

It took her a short while to gather where she was, who’s bed she was in. The memories to what had led for her to be here took even a moment longer. It was all still a blur, too much like the most pleasurable dream to be real.

Even moments later, with her eyes open, looking at the ceiling, she still was not entirely sure that it wasn’t. The last night had been … unlike anything she’d ever encountered before. 

It had not been the first time for Margaery, going home with someone she’d just met. She’d done that before, but it was the first time it was so intense. 

In her experience, hooking up with someone you just met, could be fairly awkward, with the lack of knowing the other person, the lack of trust; most of her experiences had been not very satisfying. But this night, this woman… just _wow_. It had been a while since somebody had blown her mind like that.

She had known what she’d signed up for when she’d agreed to come back to Sansa’s place; still the actual events had succeeded her greatest expectations.

When they’d arrived they had not made it through more than a couple of sips from the wine Sansa had poured them. They had ended up making out still in the kitchen and for the first round of the night, had not made it further than the living room couch before hands had been shoved down unbuttoned jeans and up sweaters, beneath bras. In a mess of rumbled, halfway undone clothes and tangled limbs they had come up from it, softly laughing and never not touching each other.

And they had not stopped again through the hours afterward.

Still, the light of the day, waking up in a stranger’s bed all by herself, the magic from last night was replaced with reality faster than she liked.

Not wanting to be the cliché of a morning after, and walking through a strange apartment in only wrapped up in a sheet, Margaery settled on pulling on clothes she’d carelessly spread around the room. Dressed in her jeans and a sweater she emerged from the bedroom and made her way to where she recalled the kitchen to be.

She was met with the sight of Sansa in a silken robe, her hair pulled into a messy bun and a steaming cup of coffee between her hands; her back was turned to Margaery, and watched the snow fall through the window.

Margaery allowed herself a few seconds to just enjoy the sight of her. The way the curves of her body looked gorgeous clad in silk, the elegant line of her neck on display with her hair up, the bluish mark, that Margaery suspected was her responsibility, peeking out at the top of her collar.

“Good morning.”

Evidently caught by surprise and previously lost in thought Sansa spun around to her, needing a moment to get her face under control and settle in a smile. 

“Good morning.”

A moment of silence followed as they stood there looking at each other; it was so uncomfortable, nearly painful so, Margaery wanted to squirm under blue eyes taking her in.

Clearing her throat, it was Sansa who first regained some control over her actions. She placed her cup on the counter and turned to pull an empty one from a cupboard; only with it already in her hand looking at Margaery again. “Coffee?”

“Yes, please.” Margaery managed a nod and a smile of her own, watching Sansa pour her a generous amount.

They both appeared to be scrupulously attentive not to touch when handing over the cup. Leaning back against the counter next to Sansa, Margaery took a long sip from her coffee.

Sansa’s attention was still on her, but she waited until she’d finished her first sip to speak. “Did you sleep okay? I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“You didn’t,” Margaery assured, looking into her cup for a moment, then shooting her a small smile. “And yes, I did. Thank you.”

Sansa gave her a smile, that was way too shy for someone who’d driven her to sheer ecstasy only a couple of hours ago. 

How two people could go from such a passionate connection to hardly being able to look at or talk to each other was beyond Margaery’s comprehension, yet here they were.

“Would you like some breakfast?” Again, it was Sansa who broke out of the moment and she went to open the fridge, having a brief look inside. “I have eggs, fruit… I could make us some pancakes?”

“Thanks, but I don’t do breakfast.”

Sansa straightened her shoulders and when she closed the fridge and turned back around, the smile had vanished from her face. “Oh. Okay then.”

Margaery only just then realized how it had sounded; how that _so_ had not come out right.

“I mean, I am more of a coffee only person,” she clarified. “I skip breakfast on most days. Not the best habit, I know.”

Going back to nursing her coffee, Sansa took her in with an unreadable look. “No, probably not.”

Margaery gestured to the clock up on the wall. “Also, if the time on here is right, then I will have to get going soon if I want to catch my train.”

Waking up the dusk light outside had fooled her into thinking it was a lot earlier in the day than it was. The train she’d booked would leave in only a little more than thirty minutes, and she could only hope that Sansa’s place was not too far from the train station.

“About that.” Sansa made a face. “We are sort of … snowed in right now.”

Margaery blinked in incomprehension.

“I would have woken you otherwise. The wind picked up during night and now the road is covered in snow drifts. No plough will get through that right now.”

At the lack of anything else to do, Margaery breathed a short laughing sound. “You’re kidding.” She twisted around to look outside the window finding nothing but heaps and heaps of snow that had buried the scenery. “So, I’m stuck here?”

Out of the periphery of her vision, she noticed Sansa looking at her, but she averted her eyes by the time that Margaery turned back around, instead focused on a tangerine she had picked from the fruit bowl, her eyes focused on peeling it.

“Fuck,” Margaery muttered and caught herself when she noticed the almost violent way Sansa’s fingers dug at the tangerine peel. “Sorry. It’s just I have already lost a day, if I lose another one, there is almost no point in going.”

Sansa granted her a cautious glance. “The weather report says it should clear up in the late afternoon. With some luck you can still catch the night train if they cleared the tracks until then, and you’d still be there by tomorrow morning.”

That threw off her already off-track plans a great deal more, but she supposed there was nothing she could do. Margaery sighed. “Better than nothing I guess.”

Placing the peeled tangerine on the counter, Sansa wiped her hands. “How about some pancakes after all?” She offered again. “You look like you could use some comfort food?”

Margaery could not help but return Sansa’s tentative encouraging smile. “Sure.”

After having her offer to help reclined a good three times, Margaery settled on a chair at the small kitchen table and watched Sansa starting to work on the dough.

“So, I guess this is nothing new to you?”

Sansa only barely caught herself before she could spill milk over the counter and shot her a look over her shoulder. “Well, actually, no. This is the first time I’ve ever—” Realization dawned on her and she turned away. “You were talking about the weather, weren’t you?”

Margaery bit away a smile. “Yes.”

She felt compassion for Sansa’s obvious embarrassment, but did appreciate to know where her mind was at; that she was not the only one dwelling about the awkwardness of these moments.

“We get snowed in at least once a winter, usually more often,” Sansa replied to her original question and started to stir in the bowl. “When I was a kid, we’d get snow days at least twice a month. It’s sort of an inconvenience now, but I really loved it back then.”

“I can imagine,” Margaery rested her chin on her hand. “I used to be sort of envious as a kid? In those all those Christmas movies kids always got snow days and that was just not something that happened in the Reach. Ever.”

Sansa smiled over her shoulder. “Welcome to your first snow day then.”

It was not a day of skipping school, but it did hold some promise despite that.

“Well, as you are the expert, what is it you do on a snow day?”

Sansa still had her back turned to her but in the way she tilted her head and her stirring slowed for a moment, Margaery was almost sure she smiled.

“Good food is already a very important part,” she explained then. “For the rest it really depends if you’re keener to outside or inside activities.”

Margaery smiled into her cup as she took a sip. “Indoors seems to reduce the risk of hypothermia. Given my pretty, rather than practical clothing.”

“You wouldn’t last very long in a snow fight,” Sansa picked up the bowl and turned around still stirring. “A shame. You’d be a very easy prey.”

Glad to have already swallowed her mouthful of coffee, Margaery tilted her head. “Yeah, I think we established that.”

The smile they shared was shyer than the memories it evoked in both of them would have required.

Clearing her throat, Sansa turned back around to the counter, and putting the bowl down. “So, how do you like your pancakes?”

Margaery looked at her back with perplexity. “How do I like my pancakes?”

Leaning down to retrieve a pan from one of the lower drawers, Sansa nodded. “Yes. Fluffy, crepe-style, mini-pancakes, large ones, chocolate-chip, banana?”

Even if Margaery had cared, the sight on Sansa’s perfect, distractingly so, behind, would have let her forget it. “Whatever you prefer is fine for me.”

“Aren’t you a low maintenance house guest.” Sansa placed a large pan on top of the stove and turned it on, then she reached up and pulled a box from an upper shelf. “Chocolate-chip it is then.”

She had the first batch done rather quickly and a plate with three of the most symmetrical and delicious looking pancakes was placed in front of Margaery. When she wanted to wait until Sansa’s were ready, she shook her head and urged her on to get started.

“They are best straight out of the pan.”

Margaery stabbed a fork into food that was too pretty to eat and with the first bite was sure it was the best pancake she had had in her life.

“Oh my Gods.” She didn’t even care that Sansa broadly grinned at her small moan.

“Good?”

“Absolutely amazing,” she declared, covering her mouth with a hand, her fork already aiming for the next bite.

Having more or less shamelessly inhaled her food, Margaery was almost done by the time Sansa had finished cooking her own and sat down across from her.

Sansa send her a small smile. “I can make some more if you’d like?”

With a quick shake of her head Margaery stopped her from jumping back to her feet and whip up another batch as she seemed ready to. “It was absolutely delicious, but my stomach is not used to having food this early. I better not overdo it.”

She caught Sansa smiling at her, glancing at her through her lashes and felt the need to squirm for a fleeing moment.

The table was rather small. Barely larger than the quatre a square metre, hardly suited for two people and it brought them back into a closer proximity than they had been in all morning. It was hard to focus on anything but Sansa with her so close. She’d sat down on her chair sideways, her legs crossed and her robe had fallen open just enough to reveal the pale skin of long legs to Margaery. She swallowed and forced her attention back on her plate, and away from the memory of how that skin had felt beneath her fingertips, those toned thighs on either side of her head.

When she put her fork down on an empty plate, Sansa was still working on her first pancake.

“I will help myself to some more coffee if that’s okay?” Margaery went to her feet, empty cup in hand and she eyed Sansa’s. “Refill for you as well?”

She reached across Sansa and realized how her attempt to get some distance between them had them even closer than before. The eyes met for a long moment, and because they’d both reached for Sansa’s cup, now their hands did touch.

“Yes please.” Sansa smiled up at her, her touch lingering a good moment longer than necessary.

Margaery used the moment facing away from the other woman, while she poured fresh coffee, to get the colour that wanted to creep up her neck under control, a tad more contained she turned back around, finding that Sansa’s eyes were still on her. The way she looked at her had the very same quality of the previous night, was only, perhaps in light of the day, not quite as daring, a bit shyer.

It was a little ridiculous, Margaery thought, as she sunk back onto thechair. This sort of tension, this stolen looks, and ambiguous smiles were usually something that came before sleeping with someone, not after having rolled around in bed together for half the night.

Once Sansa finished her food, she made a small noise, that indicated she was full and brought a napkin over her lips. When she had lowered it, Margaery couldn’t hold back a small chuckle, seeing the considerable smudging of chocolate the action had left along the side of Sansa’s mouth.

“What?”

“You have a little…” She reached out in instinct, getting a hold of Sansa’s chin and brushed her thumb over the stain.

Only then, touching Sansa, who’d seemed to hold her breath she realised what she was doing and drew back. Most of the smudge was gone and she wiped her fingers on her own napkin.

“Sorry,” she offered quietly to Sansa who still hadn’t moved, her lips still the tiniest bit agape, but at least picked up breathing again. “Just a little chocolate gone array there.”

“Thanks,” Sansa returned soundless.

Margaery forced a smile. “Why don’t I take care of the dishes?”

Her attempt to reach for Sansa’s plate was halted by fingers capturing her wrist. “Margaery?”

The sound of her name from Sansa’s lips had the same effect it had the previous night; came along with a pleasant pull in her stomach. Never had anyone had that effect on her.

Reluctantly Margaery let go of the plate and drew her eyes from the hold Sansa still had on her to her face.

“Look, I don’t know the protocol here,” Sansa sighed and looked down, her grip becoming a bit looser first and then it disappeared altogether. “But as we will still be here for a while… Last night fun. A lot of fun. But it’s perfectly fine if you want to leave it at that. Let’s just… I mean we are adults. Let’s just skip this awkwardness, okay?”

Margaery stared at her for a moment of silence.

“I don’t want that,” she gave back softly then, not understanding how Sansa had ever gotten such a wrong impression. “I mean, I don’t want to leave it at last night.” This time she captured Sansa’s hand across the table, drawing her fingers over the back. “Not if you don’t.”

Sansa released a shaky breath and a smile pulled on the corners of her lips. “You don’t?”

Margaery entangled their fingers tightly. “I think I’d be a fool to.”

Slowly, Margaery leaned in, one knee on her chair, both elbows braced on the table, she bridged across dirty dishes and half empty coffee cups until at last her lips brushed against Sansa’s; found herself rewarded with a gorgeous smile when she pulled back.

“It’s just,” Sansa looked to where her hands had entangled with Margaery’s and thumbs were drawing circles over her wrists. “I just thought… you were all dressed and seemed ready to get out of here, I thought—"

Margaery broke her off with a deep kiss that tasted like chocolate and coffee. “You thought wrong.” She lowered her eyes and her fingers gently tugged on the collar of Sansa’s robe, shooting her a smile. “Now, let me thank you for breakfast?”


End file.
